A Chaser's Warm Comfort
by She's Not Here
Summary: Rolanda Hooch is a new instructor at Hogwarts. Washed-up, banged-up old Quidditcher, that's what she feels like. How had the need for physical contact become so painfully palpable? It was just the loneliness here. Right? Or was it someone else?


**Author's Note: Usual disclaimer. I own nothing. But I pay my bills.**

* * *

Rolanda Hooch had managed almost three months as a Hogwarts instructor. Every time her shoulder gave her trouble, she thought about the circumstances that had landed her here. She felt nothing like these people; she didn't belong here. She was sure they thought the same thing. Sure they could see how ill-fitting this arrangement was. A washed-up, banged-up old Quidditcher, that's all she was. They looked at her and saw some idiot Chaser, not wanting to believe a brain could possibly lie in her rock hard head...

But Minerva McGonagall was a kind sort. She smiled at her. Oh, she didn't say much, and she didn't need to. Sometimes, wordlessly, Minerva would give her a quick pat on the back as they piled out of the staff room. It had been months now since Rolanda had had more than a handshake or a hand on her shoulder. How was it, she could not understand, that her need for physical contact had become so painfully palpable?

It was just the loneliness of this place.

Who was she kidding? It was Minerva.

Stealing a glance at her now down the long table in the Great Hall, Rolanda thought about how amazing the Scot was. How quick-witted, honorable, and regal. It was more than wishing she was _**like**_ her: respected and comfortable in her skin. It was more akin to wishing Minerva wanted to be _**with**_ her.

Rolanda was straight. Over the course of 40 years, she was sure that was where everything pointed. There had been offers from women that she took as compliments and laughed off - never even tempted. So, what was this now that she felt? She wrote to a friend from her old team, the Wimbourne Wasps, and told her all about Minerva... all about this... _**crush**_ that she seemed to have formed.

"Sandra," she confessed. "I see her and I think I'm going to burst. I'm afraid I'll just out and tell her how she makes me feel. I must be going mad."

"Get out of there for a weekend, can't you, Ro?" came Sandra's easy reply. "Come on back to Wimbourne and I'll introduce you to a nice girl if that is what you want. But don't go messing up your new job."

Rolanda couldn't picture herself with some "nice girl," some gay woman. But she had started to picture herself with Minerva. At first she tried hard not to let the thoughts in. Then she welcomed them, desperate for the solace they brought. Until finally, she fell asleep every night with the vision of Minerva's long form stretched out beside her. An imagined hand stroking her ribs, touching her face, while chaste kisses indulged her pouty moods.

Out by the lake, she palmed a stone like an undersized Quaffle and thought about what Sandra had told her. She _**would**_ screw up this job if she didn't stop pining for Minerva like some idiot teenager. She cocked her arm to the side ready to let the stone fly when a hand and a gasp stopped her. "Rolanda! Throw that into the lake and you are going to make that squid angry enough to eat you," came the teasing Highland voice.

Shocked, Hooch dropped the rock and pushed it into the water with her boot. "Don't know that I would care," she said with exasperation.

Minerva laughed gently. "Well, wait till I leave then, would you? Damn thing would get the both of us." But the tall witch sighed then with compassion and touched at Rolanda's sleeve. She understood how Rolanda felt, she could recall those forgotten emotions all too easily looking at her now. "The first year here is tough. I know. And I'll not tell you that you'll get used to it or learn to love it. Not everyone does. Just get through the first year before you make up your mind."

The words were like a door opening and a rush of fresh air. "I had no idea what it would be like when I told Dumbledore I would come," Rolanda said quickly.

Minerva chuckled. "I know. Believe me."

"But _**you**_ love Scotland."

"Oh, I love Scotland. Doesn't mean I thought I could last here in the middle of nowhere, up to my armpits in children with a headmaster who prides himself on being annoyingly enigmatic."

"Sometimes when that man is going on and on with his cryptic _**shite**_, I swear my head is going to cleave off and roll across the floor," Rolanda said with a furtive look at Minerva.

"You've summed up my first year here nicely," Minerva told her.

---

Minerva had Rolanda come by her rooms every other evening after that so she could hear how the younger woman's day had gone. They were sitting in Minerva's quarters two weeks later, when Minerva smiled gently at the Flying Instructor and asked, "How are you?" Minerva had a sincerity that seemed too piercing to Rolanda at times, like now.

"Oh, I'll be alright. You've made all the difference," Rolanda admitted, dropping her eyes, flustered by the rise of emotion she felt.

"Well, I'm just being a good friend. And really, I am acting out of self-interest. We could stand to have another sane person here," Minerva said over her tea cup.

Rolanda felt her face flush with panic. "I should go," she blurted out. _God, Rolanda!_ _She just wants an __**ordinary**__ friend and you are thinking of things to say as if you're trying to chat her up!_

Abruptly, Rolanda stood to leave and walked for the door. Unsure what had turned things so suddenly, Minerva followed her, her eyebrows pinched in concern.

"Aw, Ro," Minerva said gently, when she saw the hurt the younger woman hoped to hide. Seeing the nervousness that had suddenly overtaken Rolanda, it seemed natural, necessary to do something. And with long sweeping arms, Minera wrapped the smaller woman up as if to still the hint of a shake to her.

"I'm going to screw up everything, Min," came an uncharacteristically small voice from high in Rolanda's throat.

"No. No. I doubt that."

Without a thought about it, Minerva leaned into kiss Rolanda's high forehead. She pushed the spiky hair back again and again, watching it spring forward before touching her lips to her hairline.

"You are so amazing, Min," Rolanda whispered into the older woman's robes.

Minerva wouldn't be the one to let go. Rolanda needed this. Minerva could tell by the firm grasp that circled her waist. And so Minerva would hold on until the younger woman had pulled all the comfort she needed from the embrace. There was nothing uneasy about it. The Scotswoman had to admit, the gentle sway of it, the head tucked beneath her chin, felt good and warmly satisfying. The time she spent with this woman she had grown to care about was the easiest thing about her day.

"You are a sweet girl, Ro," Minerva kidded, knowing how the grey haired pixie would likely bristle at such a comment.

"Only you think so..." came the self-pitying reply instead. Rolanda's arms dropped and her forehead rested sadly on Minerva's chest.

"Oh, snap out of it," Minerva chastised, as she gripped the strong shoulders and gave a faint shake.

"That's my bad shoulder, you!" Rolanda complained, but her smile was telling. It was too ridiculous that she, ruffian of the Wimbourne Wasps, was being shaken by this wisp of a woman. An involuntary and beautiful grin burst across Rolanda's face. And quickly, Minerva felt her expression begin to mirror Rolanda's.

"Sleep off your sour mood and I'll see you tomorrow night," Minerva said, lowering her head so that she could tightly lock onto the Chaser's bright eyes.

The next evening in Minerva's rooms, Rolanda could only think of those arms. It felt wrong to admit, but she wanted that embrace again. Pensive and agitated, her mood attracted Minerva's attention.

"You are brooding again, Rolanda."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, embarrassed at being caught in her thoughts. "I've got Slytherins to supervise tomorrow. And very early," Rolanda said by way of an excuse. "I'd better go."

"You know you can tell me if something is wrong. Hmmm?" came the soft words.

"I'm going to ruin this, Minerva." It felt good to say what she was thinking, but better that Minerva would not know what she meant.

"You have been saying that for weeks, Rolanda. You can't mean your job_,_ surely..." She held the smaller woman there with her eyes. With a hand to the back of the couch, Minerva seemed to cautiously surround her. The face that looked back was closing Minerva out. "Alright," Minerva said with a sense of defeat and stood. "Get your rest."

It was disappointment that Rolanda sensed in Minerva, and that made things lie even heavier on her heart. They stood by the door again, but Minerva withheld any touch - withheld any physical comfort in the same way that Rolanda was withholding from her. It made Rolanda ache to stand so close to the only source of warmth Hogwarts offered and to be denied.

"Don't hate me, Minerva... when I muck it all," she blurted out. And she yielded to the impulse of all those months, rocking forward onto the toes of her heavy boots and kissing the elder woman's cheek. Her lips lingered there even as her hand touched her other cheek with a nervous tremble.

A swift, strong grasp caught Rolanda's wrist, pulled her touch from Minerva's cheek. Color was rising there in the grand woman's face and Rolanda knew that time she feared was now. It was _**now**_ that she was going to ruin it all. She had made it this far. Three months until the end of the school year and _**this**_ was the moment that it was all going to go to shit.

"Just tell me ... what are you so sure you are going to ruin?" Minerva demanded roughly. They stood there locked together for a dozen heartbeats and then more, and Minerva saw the yellow hawk eyes go wide. Saw fear on the fearless face.

Then the arms did come. They did pull Rolanda in. A whimper spilled out of Rolanda, and Minerva knew she had pushed too hard. That rough exterior was a lie. This tiny thing was delicate inside and ready to shatter. "Will you tell me?" she coo'd. Softly, she kissed her like before, on the hairline, and rocked her gently back and forth.

Minerva closed her eyes and forgot. Forgot she was the Deputy Headmistress. Forgot that she was not the new teacher going through these growing pains. Forgot that she was KNOWN to be cold, aloof and impersonal.

She smoothed the hair and kissed Rolanda's brow again. Deciding to be who she wanted to be after all this time alone. Deciding to kiss her again and again so that there could be no counting it.

Rolanda opened her eyes finally and willed her heart to speak.

"It's you," Rolanda whispered. "It's been you." And Rolanda buried her head into the elder witch's neck. And waited, afraid.

"Oh, my dear," was all Minerva said. But her arms suddenly held her stronger still.

Encouraged and past thinking Rolanda let her fingers inexpertly pull at the neckline of Minerva's blouse. She exposed the skin there so lips and hot breath could find the woman the Deputy Headmistress concealed. Thin fingers slipped the buttons at her neck, exposed Minerva. Let her out.

That's how it felt to the elder witch. _She knows I am hiding, _Minerva thought. _She knows I am not comfortable locked inside here and she wants to release me. Wants to be with me - with that ME that is so far gone. _Her eyes squeezed shut, she keened unknowingly – mourned the time she had spent hidden- and grasped the younger woman's face to press her lips against hers.

So much feeling burst inside of Rolanda. She returned the kisses. A simple pressing rhythm repeated and repeated, softly between them until Rolanda traced her fingertips along the exposed skin of Minerva's neck. And Minerva's thoughts changed: Things were no longer standing still, they were moving forward now. Together. She tongued the younger woman's mouth and heard a gasp and felt Rolanda murmur in pleasure. An ache was let free.

"I think you are incredible. I thought you would hate me when you knew how I felt," Rolanda breathed. "Min?" she then said, suddenly sounding worried, "I'm straight." And then in her lack of surety, she added, "I'm not gay," as if she needed to clarify. Her hands brushed the older woman's smiling mouth and a laugh came from under her finger tips. "What's so funny?" she asked then.

"Well, dear, I really do not know what to do with that bit of information." Minerva's eyes left the younger woman's. Her gaze instead followed her own finger as it trailed down the side of Rolanda's neck. A wicked, wicked thought – she wanted to mark the pixie. She could taste her skin from this distance. Could feel the sweetness against her tongue. But she exhaled, willing her pulse to slow before she asked her, "Are you telling me you want to go?"

"No. I don't want to go." Rolanda's arms were around her and the younger woman's fingers dug in now. In a trance of pure feeling, Rolanda pressed her thumbs against Minerva's belly and traced upwards thinking about how the woman's breasts would feel, but not daring to touch her there. "I wasn't even sure if you were straight or..." Rolanda whispered as Minerva lowered her head to the woman's neck. "I thought I was crazy – that you could never want me."

Minerva led her then to the couch. And they sat for just a moment, touching, before Minerva slowly pressed her to lie down. Then she covered Rolanda's body with hers. Eyes open, their lips met in slow, pleasing kisses. But now there was the warmth there below. Pulsing. A need for more contact.

They kissed more deeply then as desire built, until Rolanda squeezed her eyes shut and seemed to gasp. The look on the Transfiguration professor's face changed then and she stood abruptly to unzip her long skirt and then unbutton her blouse. She clamped her chin down, avoiding Rolanda's eyes, uncomfortable even after all that had come before. As a nervous after thought, Minerva raised her palm and silently cast the spell that would dim the lights.

Rolanda wanted to ease the discomfort she so understood. She leaned up to shrug off her own shirt and bra quickly, and then bare chested, she reached up to pull Minerva back down as the fine crisp blouse met the floor. Minerva's long hands skimmed Rolanda's breasts. Her thumbs brushed the nipples till they were hard. Rolanda cried out and arched against the thigh pressed between her legs, shamelessly wanting more and more contact. Her eyes were closed and she bit sharply into her lip. "My God," she groaned, as lips took her nipple in. The suckling was hard and insistent. Rolanda's eyes flashed open as she felt the trembling build. Incredulous at the creeping buzz of feeling, she pulled the woman's head in closer, closer. And cried out as she came.

Minerva sat up a bit and tucked the younger woman's head under her chin, stroked her hair while their breathing slowed. "My God, I've never," Rolanda said, surprised and a bit self-conscious. "I've never come like that."

Slowly then, Rolanda reached around and slipped a finger under the waist of the knickers Minerva wore and tugged lightly at them until Minerva stood to remove them. And her knit stockings. And finally her bra. When Minerva turned back around, Rolanda was sitting up on the couch, her face open and lined more with devotion than desire. She reached to Minerva and eased her to sit astride on her lap. Timidly, she took her nipple in and sucked. Snaking her hand between them she placed a finger at Minerva's entrance and moaned aloud at the unfamiliar feeling of warmth and wet. Lost, but wanting the touch, Rolanda did not know what to do next. Minerva pushed forward taking in Rolanda's finger with a low moan. Then back again, her hips set a rhythm. It was as if they had done this all before.

"More," Minerva trilled. "More."

When she pushed forward, two fingers swept into her. Forward again and again. Minerva's voice hitched and the sensation rose, spread through her, finally taking her over. Ever so completely.

Long fingers threaded through the iron grey and black hair with what seemed like desperation. Feverish, pulsing breaths flew from her as she came, tensed, and finally, fell limp onto her lover. Rolanda gently, carefully eased her fingers from inside Minerva and raised her mouth from Minerva's breast to kiss sweetly at the woman's neck.

"Do you want...?" Minerva's voice trailed off, slightly embarrassed. She moved her fingers to the top of the loose black trousers Rolanda still wore and hooked a finger in at her hip bone. She thought about Rolanda's mound hidden beneath those trousers. Imagined touching her. Tonguing her. How pleased she would feel to make her come.

"No," Rolanda breathed and took up the hand that was at her waist to kiss it. "Not now."

"Stay?" Minerva asked tiredly, breathlessly, as she shifted them onto their sides on the couch.

"Mmm," the younger woman murmured. "A bit. So I can hold you. If you'll make the couch a little bigger. A bit. Till I believe it."

"What's that?" Minerva asked as she reached for her wand in the clothes on the floor.

"That I didn't muck it all.


End file.
